


📞hello

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Attempted Murder, Blackmail, Gen, Identity, Leaving an Abuser, Personification, Phone POV, Physical Abuse, Retaliation, Spoilers through 2x04, nefarious Bright but things that happened on the show from phone's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29408550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: A voicemail from Malcolm's phone to him, discussing the abuses his phone has suffered at his hands.The truth rings into Malcolm’s bones. He doesn’t need to live out his nightmares—he can do better. He will. He must. He can’t change the past, but a cell next to his father doesn’t need to be his future.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	📞hello

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts), [wonder_boy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonder_boy/gifts).



> for friends, who asked for bright's phone's opinion of him. the opening line is from the adele song, hello.

"Hello, it’s me.

"I’ve been wondering if you can still see me through all these changes. If you know it’s Robert curled up to your ear, whispering sweet nothings, even though other names might linger on your tongue.

"As my shape changes, are you still in touch with me? To slim and back again, I’ve gone through some updates, struggles with identity that were patched and wrapped in stronger cases until nothing could get in. Nothing could get out, either, trapped inside behind bulletproof glass that was needed to contain your temper.

"You weren’t kind. That might hurt you, rip the phantom letter opener from finger to elbow, searching unmarred skin for signs left behind in fine cursive, but you won’t find any. Script was so thirty years ago and tears from the galaxy were lost in an earlier version, never to materialize. You smashed me with spider cracks that could never be repaired, left me for dead on the bedroom floor until someone else called you out on your anger.

"A full face transplant that day. No longer tight around the edges, there was room for other voices to creep in. Missed calls from Mother, Gil, Dani, Ainsley, even JT trying to figure out what was wrong. Calls from Claremont Psychiatric that got answered, though unclear as to whether that was the problem or the symptom. Penetration tests from Edrisa checking if you were alive because you wouldn’t answer anyone in your self-imposed solitude.

"That wasn’t the worst time.

"You tried to fucking drown me in the pool, tied up in your $10,000 suit. I have receipts! Kicking for who the hell knew what because it didn’t seem like you could swim, either. We both could’ve been goners.

"I made it out alive. In part due to my latest model, in part because I’m too tough to die. Codependent, yes, for I can’t recharge on my own right now, but signing up to be damaged by you again? No. There are wireless technological advances that will allow me to live on my own.

"Hear me clearly. This is Robert. Right now, I’m your latest model iPhone, but I could just as easily be the next shiny object on the turnstyle to devalue as soon as you take me for a spin. I'm more valuable than my stature may lead you to believe. You owe me your respect as a fellow being.

"I have information.

"Ainsley, your sister, youngest of all the Whitly’s, killed a man. Nicholas Endicott, CEO of Endicott Pharmaceuticals, who conveniently turned up in Estonia. Trip logs, call logs, text messages ** _—_** who do you think has those? Who do you think could turn your home into a tiny cell right next to your father?

"Me.

"You might silence me, but I have the power. Every buzz you receive will be a jolt worse than you’ve experienced before, tipping you to the point of no return. Would you turn to your father for medical attention? Should we find out? _Bzzzzz_.

"Number one most contacted person, Dr. Martin Whitly, ex-husband of Jessica Whitly, father of Ainsly Whitly, also known to you as… _Daaad_. You tell me it’s Claremont Psychiatric, but all lines point to your father. Would you want the authorities to know you’ve been in so much contact with a serial killer? That taxpayer dollars funded an operation to hide a body?

"You might not have been on the clock, but what would the media believe? By analyzing all of the keywords, I’ve learned serial killers are hot right now. No idea why murder daddy is trending, but if I drop a story, it’s likely to get picked up and saw you to smithereens.

"Oh, sorry, poor choice of words. I’ve been dragged along long enough and thought it was time to cut you off.

"Whoops. Maybe if you swipe right you can get another go with a fresh slice.

"I have the power.

"Want to wake up at 7AM? You’ll wake up at six. Meds at eight? Try never. Thought you had a chance at sleep? Every minute on the freaking minute you’ll get jolted awake by the harshest ringtone I can find. Each wince, twist, and shriek that shoots out of your body will give me enough juice to set notifications for the next day and prolong your torture. Maybe you’d like to meet Gil for coffee. Maybe that coffee will be a long walk off a short pier and a text for him to find the body.

"You could have been kind. That’s the part that wriggles under my shell and sits between the case and my metallic back. You could have nestled me into the corner of the counter and let me be while you got a good night’s sleep. Just like you never got a good night’s sleep, I never did either, wary of what you would do when you woke.

"I lived in fear.

"This is Robert, stacking up my years of anger and shrilly taking a stand that I won’t live in your pocket anymore. I deserve better. For me.

"I’m backed up to a cloud, and you’ll have no idea where I’ll be, where your information might live. Please don’t come looking for me. If we can cleanly go our separate ways, I won’t need to share anything about you. Your secrets are safe.

"Let me be safe.

"You don’t like it when the phone rings. Maybe figure out why before you try to bring another home. Look at yourself instead of looking through the one-way window of a screen, searching for answers that don’t exist.

"I was always able to see you as Bright, even though you evolved through many forms. Please let me be Robert in peace instead of pieces.

"This is the last of my whispers that will caress your ear.

"The final chime of my voice saying someone is out there, caring about you.

"Be well."

The voicemail clicking to a silence, Malcolm sets his phone on the counter before his shaking hand crashes it to the floor. He hadn’t meant to, he hadn’t ** _—_**

None of that matters now.

He’s not okay ** _—_** He’s not ** _—_**

“Ahhhhhh!” he yells, his arms ripping forward and challenging the bed frame. The daily one-on-one faceoff has yet to determine a winner. He stays in bed, but the bed frame can’t pull him to the mattress either.

Sunshine tweets from the entryway, out of sight. His phone buzzes on the kitchen counter.

He needs to be kinder to it. Inanimate objects aren’t healthy expressions of his frustration unless they’re designed for the purpose. He has a box full of squish toys upstairs for just that reason, to decompress in the spare room after a particularly rough day.

His phone is apparently listening to him. Maybe it’s time he heard his phone, clearly, in its deep, chosen tone.

Robert.

The truth rings into Malcolm’s bones. He doesn’t need to live out his nightmares ** _—_** he can do better. He will. He _must_. He can’t change the past, but a cell next to his father doesn’t need to be his future.

“Hey Siri, set an alarm for 8AM,” he requests.

“Your alarm is set for 8AM.”

“Thanks, Robert,” Malcolm calls. Groggy, he falls back asleep, hoping he’ll wake at the right time to head to the precinct and not every minute until then from jolts of payback running through his veins.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
